December 2009
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hmm, pictures
from another reblog - asuggs reblogged cdixon:
http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2009/12/27/opinion/28opchart.html
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about dream logic
in this dream a couple of nights ago, one of my friends was [in costume] [had taken the form of] [appeared as] one of the spongeBob-like crustraceans.
we were in a bar, somewhere, downstairs - maybe a hotel, biggish space - and there was something on the ground (glitter? a tiny sign? something that caught my eye) I asked my friend, in crustacean gear: So long as this is at eye level for you, can...
from War Dances, Sherman Alexie
(this is the last paragraph of the eponymous short story; if you’ve not yet read the story, and want to, maybe don’t read this now. or do)
by Sherman Alexie:
I wanted to call up my father and tell him that a white man thought my brain was beautiful. But I couldn’t tell him anything. He was dead. I told my wife and sons that I was okay. I told my mother and siblings. I told...
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travel
in a trailer with sketchy electrical connections and holding my breath to not lose the wireless that I’ve just found (and already lost twice)
grateful for the safe trip back from the airport in the big borrowed car belonging to someone from ontario; grateful too that i wasn’t flying the plane. for the first time ever completely slept through the landing.
hmm
maybe northwest is...
support
‘meeting’ people online, and knowing people in real time who are living their lives through, with, around, in spite of, to fuck with cancer, birth defects, dis/abilities, sickness, stupidity, issues larger and smaller and all with an ability to laugh, to make someone else laugh, be it bitterly, mordantly or juice-through-the-nose-fully.
still dealing with my own head up my own ass,...
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balance
califmom just wrote about rollercoasters. Big ups and downs and bad things and unknown things around the corner.
thinking of how to send positive thoughts, how to get out of my own way, how to find balance.
as elemental as breathing?
[what is] as elemental as breathing?
two weeks in hell
inthefade:
Last night we watched this show about the process for getting to be a Green Beret. It was called Two Weeks in Hell. Not only was it fascinating, but it got me through today when I kept thinking “Oh my god, this day is hell. If I get one more paper cut I’m going to kill myself.” Because I kept thinking of what those guys go through just for a chance to become a Green Beret and god...
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holy crap
read this poem by Mark Halliday, found at Emily Lisker’s blog
http://theurbanmermaid.blogspot.com/2009/12/mark-halliday.html
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people
bittersweet.
at an annual christmas gathering that friends have hosted for, what, 26, 30 years?
someone had met his now-ex-wife there 26 years ago. last time i was there, a now 8-year-old-child was still being nursed by one of his mothers.
another friend has since passed; another friend is scarily ill; her handwriting, even, is afraid. other friends are divorced but in the same room. and on...
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sad
me: blah blah blah blah blah blah sad
me: so?
me: but sad. sad, sad, sad.
me: pull up your socks.
me: ouch. sad. hurt. palpable
me: ok. got it. pull up your socks.
a long ish week
fraught with cold. an asylum hearing, a half day training, a staff holiday gathering, an elephant painting. (not small).
yin, yang. a friend’s serious illness. other friends’ kind wishes.
a message from my father, maybe. or maybe those ashes messages are just the things we make up to make the day go by. to comfort ourselves a little bit.
but ready to get back to work next...
TUMBLARITY 12
-6 from yesterday
so
tumblr
more = more.
silence = not so much.
ok. just so we know.
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tiny phone thing
when my dad was in the hospital, the week he spent there before dying, I was holed up with his wife in a motel down the road.
i’d had to get a new phone charger, as i’d not expected to be staying in hyannis for a week.
somewhere in the motel i lost the little thing that plugs into the bottom of the cell phone, i think, to keep dust or lint out. or something. i looked and looked and...
asylum granted
our friend and her family are safe. at least from one threat.
joy, relief, exhaustion are palpable.
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cake, death
between good and evil. no. after evil. where unspeakable lives.
trial tomorrow for our friend from Mali trying to protect her daughters from forced marriage, forced mutilation if they’re ordered back. an unimaginable hell. There is no laugh out loud here. I keep asking for your good thoughts. Asking as nicely as I can one more time.
sally
please keep my friend sally in your good thoughts.
she, like cake, is fabulous. sometimes you may not be in the mood just right then, but always you are glad that there might be cake, that there is somewhere, sally.
whatever thought/vibe/prayer/care thing you might do, please think well of and for her.
and
right. all the tumblrtwitterfacepeople and events. kind of interesting. compelling. but, right. note to self re: being mindful of actual speech and listening.
(hoping the phone won’t ring. i’m thinking here).
hmm
TV is so 2008
damselesque:
Since joining Tumblr about 4 months ago, I’ve noticed I’m watching a lot less TV. Even when it’s on, I’m on my laptop doing something else. And I thought to myself:
Self… Tumblr is so much better than TV. I get to interact with the characters and not just watch them. Which is so much more fun.
I wonder what will happen on next week’s episode?
pretty much what she said.
is there
any way to unsee a photo?
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4 months
spiteful little shit that I am. four months since my last cigarette. four months of wondering what else to do with my hands and mouth.
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“It’s really hard to say some things with a straight face. For instance,...”
– http://twitter.com/aedison/status/6505781149
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dead fathers
for some reason I was thinking about Paul Newman when I woke up this morning. and his wife, and if she grieves and if having children is helpful. or comforting. or if the grief is shared, and if it is, in what ways?
And thinking about Ted Sizer. and then about my own father. who would very occasionally sometimes call my mother; maybe the last time he’d called, or a last time he’d...
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sammy
Monday is trash day in my neighborhood.
Often on Sunday nights we’ll walk around and see what interesting trash might be lying about. It was too cold and too dark last night but this morning, in the cold light of cold, I saw a smallish fancy pants shopping bag with a smallish wooden box inside. and a card.
hmm
a little tiny key and a tiny little lock on the small wooden box. sort of...
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hamster death threat →
imagine →
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adjustment disorder
discuss
more pictures than words
tumblr graphs posted words, photos, links. it tracks uploaded audio, video and tracks chat. somehow. it then assigns some weight to these and an algorithm based on visits? reposts? reblogs? likes? and tells you your tumblarty. it’s a little crazy-making, like weighing yourself 5 times a day, if you don’t watch out.
I don’t know. It really can’t matter all that much in...